The Man From Spain (FAM Zorro)
by icyfire
Summary: Diego, feeling tired and alone, wishes he could forget Zorro, and then he does. He thinks he has just returned home from Spain. What will Don Alejandro and Victoria think of him, this man from Spain?
1. The Fall

The Man From Spain

Title: The Man From Spain

Author: [icyfire@webtv.net][1]

Summary: Diego, feeling tired and alone, wishes he could forget Zorro, and then he does. He thinks he has just returned home from Spain. What will _Don_ Alejandro and Victoria think of him, this man from Spain?

Disclaimer: Not mine, except in my imagination, and I don't make any money off of them there, either. ;) 

Z Z Z Z

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  
And sorry I could not travel both  
And be one traveler, long I stood  
And looked down one as far as I could

  
Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken"

Z Z Z Z

With hands shaking in anger, Diego unbuttoned his shirt. He needed to move quickly. No doubt his father would soon be home to boast about the great job Zorro had done. He would probably throw in a few pointed comments about his useless son's absence, too. In the middle of buttoning his "Diego" shirt, he forced himself to stop and take a deep breath. He desperately needed to be calm when _Don_ Alejandro returned.

Fortunately, as it had always been, when he put on the mask, Diego's problems had melted away from his mind. The feel of the black silk next to his face helped him focus on the poor man needing his help in the _pueblo_ instead of on the argument he had with his father earlier. _Don_ Alejandro had expected his son to go with him to protest the whipping of yet another peasant, but Diego, of course, was too busy with some "pointless" experiment to go rally against the _alcalde_.

Now that he was once again dressed as Diego, he could not get _Don_ Alejandro's angry words out of his mind. He understood his father's frustrations. After all, he rightfully expected his son to take a leadership role in the community. He had raised Diego to be a concerned and educated citizen. The man that had come from Spain, the one he believed to be his son to be, was not the person expected. A de la Vega that did not speak out against injustice, and who could lose himself in a poem as chaos reigned in the _pueblo_, was an oddity to him. Even the citizens of Los Angeles often looked at Diego as if he were a duck in a fine family of swans.

In the middle of eating some hay, Toronado neighed in protest when the peaceful silence of the cave was shattered by the sound of breaking glass. Diego looked over at Zorro's stallion in shock. Then, he glanced down at the jagged pieces against the far wall that used to be a beaker. He seldom lost control like that anymore. He never really let himself, could not allow himself. What could he accidentally reveal in anger? The possible consequences were too large to ever ignore.

He needed to rest. The _alcalde_ was sentencing someone to a whipping every few days, and bandits seemed to be attacking every night. Felipe was in Santa Barbara learning about being a lawyer, so Diego's usual way of handling stress was gone. There were no spontaneous fencing lessons and no willing ear to hear Diego's fears about Zorro. Running his hand through his hair, he felt a moment of pity for his friend. The boy had been subjected to a lot of Diego's ramblings over the years, but he never seemed to mind, understanding that the man needed to talk to someone. However, he had been so young to hear about a man's fears. Zorro had robbed Felipe of the innocence of youth.

Stopping at his desk for a moment, Diego looked down at some notes he had written. A friend of his, who lived in Europe, had recently sent him some studies about amnesia. The idea of forgetting crucial memories amazed Diego. He had even talked about it with Hernandez, who said he would be interested in reading the studies for himself. However, life had been so hectic lately, he had not had the chance to share them.

Plodding his way out of the cave, Diego wished he could forget Zorro, if only for a short time. He knew that eventually DeSoto would tire of being humiliated, and Felipe would soon return, but he feared he had almost lost all of his strength to continue. Unlike that long ago Christmas, he believed Zorro had done a lot of good for Los Angeles, but he wished he were finished with the masked man forever. He wanted to let his father and Victoria get to know _him_, the _real_ him. He was as tired of Diego's mask as he was of Zorro's. 

Hearing the front door open, he sat down at the piano. His fingers began to play, unbidden, a dark melody. Diego realized that something was going to have to give--either him or the masks. He was not sure, yet, which one it would be. He had come close to telling _Don_ Alejandro the truth last month, but he had been unable to say the words. So many years of lies and evasions had sealed the truth deep into his soul. How do you admit to the man who sired you and the woman you love that you are not the man you have pretended to be for almost a decade?

"Diego! You should have seen it! Zorro was magnificent." The piano moaned in protest as Diego slammed his fists down onto the keys. _Don_ Alejandro jumped, startled by the noise. 

Diego began playing again as if nothing had happened. He could feel his father's eyes on him, but he ignored them. He kept playing, both the piano and the character. "Really? Saved the day again? He's--such a hero," he said, using the same snide tone that DeSoto had once used when he said those words to Zorro. Diego could understand the _alcalde_'s frustration with the masked man. There were times that Zorro seemed too good to be true, even to his creator. Nobody could be _that_ perfect.

"Diego? Are you all right?" _Finally, noticing **me**, Father? How odd. Somehow, you've managed to miss seeing **me** for the last few years!_ Diego thought with a grim humor. He continued to play. Would he ever be able to stop? 

"I'm fine, Father. You were saying--" His voice was pleasant, like a man discussing the weather with someone he just met. Praying that his father would not make a snide comment about him, he picked up the speed of his playing. He was too tired to hear about how much of a disappointment he was to his father. His emotions were too close to the surface today. He had barely managed to keep control earlier. 

"I was saying that Zorro managed to stop the _alcalde_," _Don_ Alejandro muttered. Diego hated the fact that he had caused his father concern, but he was tired and today's date had put him in a melancholy mood. He wondered if _Don_ Alejandro realized its importance. Eighteen years before, a beautiful young woman had left behind a grieving son and devastated husband. One month to the day, a man full of hate had died in their garden, a man with de la Vega blood running through his veins. Diego could not help but wonder what his mother would think of the sons she had bore; would she be any less horrified by him, the "meek" son, than by Resendo?

His earlier fight with _Don_ Alejandro, and Zorro's battle with the soldiers, had drained the last of his emotional reserves. He needed some time alone. After his father left, he would go back into the cave and spend the rest of the night there, working on some "useless" experiments or perhaps reading a book or writing a poem. He wanted to do _anything_ besides put on that horrible mask, either one of them.

"Diego, are you all right?" his father asked again.

"I'm fine, Father. Just fine." Diego stood, knocking into an approaching _Don_ Alejandro. The freshly poured glass of wine fell from his father's hand and shattered, splattering the red liquid over the floor. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, more out of habit then real regret. However, for once, his clumsiness had been real. "I'll get something to clean it--" 

"Diego, I would rather you told me what is wrong." Father and son looked at one another in silence. He tried, really tried, to tell his father what he was feeling. He wanted his father to know, but habit and fear kept the words locked up inside him.

"What's wrong is that there is wine on the floor," he answered, turning to go to the kitchen. Unfortunately, his distracted mind failed to take into account that wet floors are slippery, so he was amazed to find himself hurtling towards the ground at an alarming rate. The way today was going he would have to start believing that he was as uncoordinated as he pretended to be. His father's anguished cry was the last thing he heard before the world went black.

ZZZZZZZZ

The world exploded into a haze of bright light when Diego attempted to open his eyes. He moaned in agony at the pain shooting through his brain. He decided quickly that keeping his eyes closed was the best thing to do. Then, he heard footsteps approaching his bed. For some reason, the sound comforted him. He felt like he knew the person walking towards his bed, even though he could not see him. _Use all of your senses_, he had been instructed to do years before, and usually he tried to remember that sight was not the only way to identify someone. 

Where was he? The bed was too comfortable to be anything but a _caballero_'s. Even the nicest inns did not have such thickly stuffed mattresses, and the covers were too finely woven to be a peasant's. "Diego, my boy, I'm so glad that you finally joined us again! How are you feeling?" asked a far-too-robust voice. It sounded familiar, but--.

"Doctor Hernandez?" Diego's voice was weak, even to his own ears. What had happened? He wished he could remember.

Forcing his eyes open, with the smallest of grimaces, Diego looked at the man who had been his doctor since he had been ten years old. The once black hair was now a solid white, and the face had many lines carved into by a lifetime of memories. Life in the colonies was hard, and Hernandez cared deeply for all of his patients. Some of those marks of pain had been made from his hours of worry over _Doña_ Elena before her untimely death.

"Diego," his father's voice came from the doorway. "You had us so worried! Are you all right?"

He smiled at _Don_ Alejandro, hiding his surprise at how much the man had aged. He looked almost two decades older instead of the half-one he should. The fire and the sparkle were still in his eyes, giving Diego comfort about his father's health and spirit. "Father," he said warmly, holding out a hand to him. Alejandro sat down beside his bed, and Diego wished that he could sit up to hug him. Nothing was going as he had planned.

"Yes, Diego, you are going to have to be a lot more careful." It was the voice of an angel, he was sure. He looked at the beautiful woman standing at the doorway, whose eyes also revealed concern and relief. Her hair was wonderfully curled around her lovely face, and--This could not be Victoria, could it? "Would it be all right for me to go and get him some juice to drink, Doctor?" Hernandez nodded, and the _señorita_ was gone as quick as she appeared.

"Victoria?"

_Don_ Alejandro looked back at him in surprise. "She went to get you something to drink, Diego."

He almost made the mistake of shaking his head. "No, I was asking if that was Victoria Escalante." His father did not answer. Instead, he glanced over at Doctor Hernandez and then quickly refocused his attention back on Diego. His eyes had grown, if possible, even more concerned. Surely, _Don_ Alejandro could understand why Diego was so surprised at how grown up Victoria was now, even though he had known she would be before he returned. "She's grown into a beautiful woman while I've been gone," he tried to explain.

"Gone? Gone where?" It was his turn to look at his father strangely. Looking over at the quiet Doctor Hernandez, he also found that man staring at him. What was going on here?

"To Spain, Father," Diego answered slowly, as if talking to a child. Why would _Don_ Alejandro have a hard time understanding him? True, he had gotten a little bit of an accent in Madrid, but he was still speaking Spanish! "While I've been at school, Victoria has grown into a beautiful woman."

A horrified gasp alerted the men to Victoria's return. With her hands trembling so badly that they were barely able to hold onto the glass within them, she walked into the room. She sat down the fruit juice and took a deep breath. "You've been at school?" she finally choked out in strangled voice.

Diego nodded, frantically trying to ignore the pain. No one's reaction was as it was supposed to be, and what had happened to his head had never been explained. "Was I hurt on the docks?"

Alejandro shook his head. "N-no, you fell beside the piano and hit your head on the bench."

He snorted in disgust and humor. "It's not like me to be so clumsy! Hard to believe that I walked in the door of my home, after being away for so long, and then almost immediately fall down," he feebly tried to joke with them, but they all kept the same serious expressions on their faces.

He did not say another word as he watched all other people in the room look at each other. Without even talking, they seemed to arrive at a unanimous decision. _Don_ Alejandro looked down at Diego and grasped his hand tighter. "Diego, my son, you came home from Spain almost seven years ago."

He tried to laugh, even though he thought it was a horrible prank. He looked at his father, then Victoria, and finally his eyes rested on Doctor Hernandez. "This _is_ a joke." Hernandez slowly shook his head, and Diego knew they were sincere. The man might be compassionate and a wonderfully dedicated doctor, but a trickster he was not. 

He had lost seven years of his life! His eyes rested on his father's face and tears pricked at his eyes. His father was twelve years older, and Diego did not know what had happened to him in all those years. True, he had the few letters that they had written to one another, but the news in them was now almost a decade out of date. Had his father remarried? Had been hurt? Was he happily running the ranch or was he too sick to take care of it? He looked healthy, but his mother had been the picture of perfect health until the last three months of her life.

He could not breath. Doctor Hernandez appeared at his side. "Diego, you need to take deep breaths! That's good." After several deep breaths, he no longer felt like he was suffocating, but the panic was just under the surface. Fortunately, Hernandez seemed to understand, even without asking any questions. He handed a glass bottle over to Victoria, telling her, "Put this in his orange juice, my dear. It will help him sleep."

Diego opened his mouth to protest, but Doctor Hernandez put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I know you don't care for anything that dulls the senses, Diego, but you need your rest. Lying here worrying about the loss of your memories won't help you get them back, and I've learned over the years that the best medicine is sleep!" He reached down to help the _caballero_ to sit up a little as Victoria handed him the glass of juice she had brought in a few minutes earlier.

Reluctantly, Diego drank the liquid, ignoring the bitter taste. He lay back down and looked at the faces surrounding him. He wondered where little Felipe was. Then, he realized that Felipe would almost be eighteen years old now! He probably had a family of his own.

_Don_ Alejandro smiled at him, as if reading his thoughts. "Felipe is in Santa Barbara learning the law. He wants to be a lawyer." A lawyer! He could not even speak or hear. How could he be a lawyer? As the dark folds of sleep embraced him, Diego smiled. His father must have done a wonderful job with the boy if he was that confident of a man.

   [1]: mailto:icyfire@webtv.net



	2. Diego versus the Alcalde

The Man From Spain 2

It was two days before Doctor Hernandez let Diego do much more then sleep.  Victoria and his father had both visited him during his few hours of wakefulness, but none of them mentioned the past or Diego's memory loss.  Usually, they read to him as he ate soup Victoria had fixed for him.  The only hint he had of current events was late yesterday afternoon.  His father, close to tears, had muttered something to Victoria about a fox not being able to help keep Citizen Friaz from the lash this time.

How a fox could help, Diego did not know, but it appeared to make sense to Victoria.  She had become upset enough to leave the two de la Vegas alone for almost an hour.  When she walked back into his room, just before he went back to sleep, he could tell that she had been crying.  Diego had seen a few public whippings in Madrid, and they had turned his stomach.  He could understand why Victoria would cry at such an event taking place in Los Angeles.

Sitting at the dinner table, with his father, Victoria and Doctor Hernandez, Diego happily noticed that the mild nausea was finally absent.  The mild pounding in his head was wonderful compared how it felt the day before, and light was no longer hurting his eyes.  He was well on his way to a complete recovery, except for his total loss of memory of seven years of his life!

It was frustrating.  His memory had been one of his most wonderful strengths.  His father had always laughed at the sheer knowledge Diego stored in his brain, and now seven years were gone.

Looking in the mirror earlier had been a shock.  _Don_ Alejandro, Victoria, and Doctor Hernandez had not been the only ones to show the ravages of time.  There were lines under his eyes he could not remember, and he thought he spotted a few white hairs beginning to show.  His eyes were the biggest surprise to him; they looked far too old, even for a man in his thirties.  What had happened to him over the years?

Noticing everyone's discomfort, Diego smiled.  "I would tell everyone some jokes, except I'm sure all I know are horribly outdated, even here in California."  Everyone smiled at him as they relaxed.  "That's better," he said.  "I think it would be terrible for Maria to walk out and find that we have just moved this wonderful food around on our plates."

Everyone immediately began eating, and _Don_ Alejandro started the conversation.  "How is Citizen Friaz doing, Doctor?"

Hernandez sighed as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.  "The scars will not be pretty, _Don_ Alejandro, but he will heal."  

Slowly, hoping he was not unknowingly breaking some unknown current social custom, Diego hesitantly asked what the man had done to be sentenced to a lashing, especially in Los Angeles.  At his father's surprise look, Diego said, "I saw a few in Madrid, but crime there is far worse.  I've never even heard of anyone being sentenced to a beating here in California."

Everyone looked very uncomfortable, and he feared that he had displayed bad manners in asking, but finally his father answered.  "Diego, I called you home from your schooling early because Los Angeles, and California, had changed a lot in the years you were gone."

He shifted uneasily in his chair.  "Surely, it didn't change that much."

His father did not return his weak smile.  "Citizen Friaz's back will be a reminder to him that he forgot to pay a tax to the _alcalde_."

Diego sat down his spoon.  "A tax?  Most of the peasants cannot afford to pay any taxes, Father!"

"I know, my son.  I know, but they are taxed and taxed and taxed and taxed.  Our last two _alcalde_s have been more interested in gaining wealth and prestige than they have justice and equality."  

He looked from one sad face to another.  The idea of Los Angeles now being so different from the place he grew up was devastating.  However, he observed that everyone seemed almost blasé about it.  An incredible feeling of melancholy overwhelmed him.  He had expected life to be different at home, but never thought it would so bad that his family accepted injustice as a part of life.

He tried to find a way to change the subject.  Too many emotions were on the surface, and he did not think crying at the table was now _en vogue_.  "I don't think I know Citizen Friaz.  He's a hunter?"

_Don_ Alejandro smiled sadly at the change in subject, as if he expected his son to talk about anything except the problems of the _péons_.  "No, Diego, he's a farmer."

His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement.  "Then, how would a fox help him pay taxes?"

"Excuse me?"

Diego smiled at the confused question.  He had so much to learn about the world in which he had suddenly found himself.  "You told Victoria yesterday that a fox couldn't save him this time."

_Don_ Alejandro glanced over at their beautiful dinner quest.  "No, Diego, I said the Fox didn't save him this time.  I don't know why, either.  He must not have heard about it."

"He?"

"Zorro is our hero," Victoria said excitedly.  Seeing the look of wonder and love on her face dashed all his hopes that maybe they had, or could have, a romantic liaison.  "The _alcalde_ calls him an outlaw, but he is wonderful, _Don_ Diego.  He helps our people get justice!"

He laughed at her exuberance.  He could not help but see that Doctor Hernandez and his father shared her opinion of the man.  "He sounds too good to be true!"

_Don_ Alejandro took a sip of his wine.  "There are times I think that, too, son, but he's always come through for us over the years.  He is a remarkable horseman.  His skill with the sword is phenomenal.  He is someone who always outsmarts the _alcalde_ and humiliates all the lancers."

Doctor Hernandez, serious man that he was, even laughed a little.  "You do not have to take our word on him, either, Diego.  You can ask anyone in the _pueblo_--except the _alcalde_--and they would tell you the same thing."

Diego looked up at the other end of the dinning room table.  "There is only one person's opinion that would really matter to me, Doctor, and I already know it."

"Whose?"  Victoria asked.

He smiled at her before looking back at his father.  "My hero."  He lifted his glass towards _Don_ Alejandro and smiled before taking a drink.  His father seemed to be slightly stunned by the comment, but Diego found that hard to believe.  _Don_ Alejandro had always set the standard as far as his son was concerned, and it was unfathomable that he would not know his role in Diego's life.

"Thank you," _Don_ Alejandro said quietly.

"No," Diego replied, leaning forward.  "_Thankyou_!  You have always been a wonderful example for me to follow.  You've already given me such a wonderful legacy, and I hope to make you proud now that I am home."  He leaned back and laughed self-consciously.  "Well, I _hope_ I made you proud after I returned from the University."

His father's eyes were bright.  "Diego, you are my son.  I love you very much."

"I've never doubted that, Father.  It is not enough though.  I want you to be proud.  It is important to me," Diego replied softly, wondering at the lack of assurances that he had made his father proud.

"You have done a lot of wonderful things for the people in this _pueblo_, _Don_ Diego," Victoria finally said.  Diego looked at her smiling face.  "You edit and publish the _pueblo_'s newspaper--I think this week will be the first time you've ever missed getting one out by deadline," she teased.

"I publish a newspaper?  Interesting; I never saw myself as a journalist."

"Really?  You are very good at it actually," _Don_ Alejandro answered.

Doctor Hernandez agreed.  "You do a wonderful job educating the people with it, Diego.  Not to mention all the reading lessons you give to the peasants and the Indians.  You have a very large heart, Diego."

He blushed at the compliments, but he felt that something was not being said.  It was horrible not knowing your own life.  "My father and mother worked very hard to make sure I knew how fortunate I was to be born into my station in life.  They gave me a wonderful example of how to help those less fortunate," he answered modestly.

_Don_ Alejandro shook his head.  "Diego, if you must know the truth, I think you are far better at compassion then I am.  It's one of the reasons that you have so many friends in our _pueblo_.  You always have an open mind and a willing ear for everyone."

"Even Zorro?" he teased, looking at Victoria.

She returned his smile.  "Probably.  I don't think he talks to anyone, though."

Diego frowned.  "He does not talk to you about his fears, hopes, and dreams?"  She shook her head and then looked down at her plate.  "Sounds like he could be a lonely man.  I hope he appreciates you, Victoria."

The joy returned to her eyes.  "Oh, he does, _Don_ Diego!  He does."

"Good.  The man won the loveliest hand--attached to the loveliest woman--in the entire territory.  He had better appreciate it," he told her, gently flirting with her.

Victoria's mouth dropped open.  A quick glance told Diego that her surprise was mirrored on both his father's and the doctor's faces.  "I did learn how to treat a lady, Father, at the University."

_Don_ Alejandro recovered first.  "Of course you did, Diego."  Everyone laughed nervously, as if trying to hide something, but he could not decide what or why.  He also had to wonder why Victoria looked as if his comment reminded her of something long forgotten.  _Don_ Alejandro began talking about Felipe and his plans, and so the masked hero and the lost years of Diego's mind were not discussed the rest of the night.

ZZZZZZZ

"Are you sure that you want to do this, Diego?"

He and _Don_ Alejandro were riding into Los Angeles, but his father had been protesting the trip the entire way.  "Yes, Father, I am certain.  I cannot spend the rest of my life hiding in the _hacienda_, and Doctor Hernandez says, from what little I've told him about the recent research in Spain on the subject, there is no certainty that I may get back my memory."  Diego sighed, his shoulders sagging.  "Or that I will ever remember those years again."

_Don_ Alejandro looked down at his hands grasping the reins tightly.  "I know it must be frust--"

"Frustrating!"  Diego exploded.  "Father, I feel like I have wandered into a new world with new rules.  Madrid was a wonderful and frightening experience in that way, but at least there I knew myself.  Here, even Diego de la Vega is a stranger.  I say something and get odd looks from you and then I spend hours questioning why.  The irony of being the only person in the territory that has done any research on 'amnesia' and having forgotten ever bit of it due to suffering from it is painful."

"I'm sorry," his father whispered.

Diego shook his head.  "Don't be.  I know it's difficult for you, too.  Your son, it appears to me, has become a stranger to you, too."

_Don_ Alejandro was silent for a long time before he answered.  "I can't deny it, Diego.  There is something--I don't know what, but something is different about you.  Even when you returned from Spain, you were not this energetic or passionate.  Well, you were passionate, but it was for the arts and science."  He smiled.  "You are still my Diego, Diego, but--it's like you are a spicier version, if you know what I mean."

Father and son laughed together.  "Thank you, I needed to hear that badly.  You're right.  It does not make any sense to me, because _I_am who should have walked into that _hacienda_ almost nine years ago."

_Don_ Alejandro sighed.  "I know, and that is confusing me, too."

"I wish I had never slipped in that wine."  He was trying to joke, but it came out serious instead.

"That's one of those things about this amnesia stuff.  Doctor Hernandez says, from how long it took you to recover and the severity of your symptoms, you hurt your head far worse when you fell off my old mare years ago."

He reined Esperanza to an abrupt stop.  "What!"  _Don_ Alejandro stopped and turned to look back at his son.  Diego ran a hand through his hair.  "That's _exactly_ what I was talking about, Father.  You put me in a saddle before I could even walk, and now I'm falling off the backs of old _mares_?"  

A heavy sigh later, Diego was again riding beside his father.  "Race you to the _pueblo_?"  Smiling, _Don_ Alejandro nodded and the race was on.  Unfortunately, when he easily won in a few minutes, it caused him to get another odd look from his father, but _Don_ Alejandro did not say anything.

ZZZZZZ

Diego sat at the only table outside the tavern that was empty, while his father went inside to get them something to drink.  Looking around the _pueblo_ where he had been raised, Diego felt sense of satisfaction.  True, to everyone else, he had been home for a long time, but the man he was in his mind had been gone for almost five years, not to mention the nine he did not remember.  Los Angeles had changed a lot in the last fourteen years.

"Buenos Dias, _Don_ Diego!" a man in a sergeant's uniform greeted him, a smile splitting his face in half.  Without bothering to ask for permission, he sat down at the table with the _caballero_.

"Hello, Sergeant," he said, wondering how well he knew the man.  He actually looked vaguely familiar, but-- 

"Well, good day to you, Sergeant," Diego heard his father say from behind him.

"Good day, _Don_ Alejandro.  I was just coming over to say hello to Diego.  I heard you had been hurt," he said, returning his attention to the younger de la Vega.  

Diego smiled, relaxing in this man's presence.  Even though _Don_ Alejandro had reluctantly shared with him a few horror stories about the lancers in Los Angeles, his father's warm greeting, plus his own instincts, told him that him that this man was not a thrilled participant in any injustices.

"Yes, Sergeant, I was, but I'm on my way to a full recovery."

The kind man smiled and nodded.  "I've hit my head once or twice in the military, _Don _Diego, and I know how much it can hurt afterwards.  Once, I hit it so hard, I was dizzy for days afterwards!"

Diego laughed, and then took a drink of his lemonade.  "I know what you mean, Sergeant."

"I noticed that the _alcalde_ hasn't arrested anyone today, Mendoza," his father said, telling him the man's name.

The man nodded, but the frown on his face spoke volumes.  "I think since Zorro did not show up, he lost heart for it.  I hope so, _Don_ Alejandro.  The people of Los Angeles are good people."

"I know," his father said with a sigh.  "I wish we could get a good _alcalde_ in this _pueblo_ again."

Diego looked up and down the plaza.  "It has changed a lot since I was a child."

Mendoza laughed.  "Oh, that it has, _Don_ Diego.  I remember, when I was at the orphanage, that Los Angeles used to be this tavern, the Church, and the _cuartel_."  Well, at least now, Diego knew why the man looked familiar.  It was not returning memories.  He saw him sometimes as a child.  He probably had transferred back to Los Angeles from somewhere else in the territory after Diego went to school.

"I remember when it was only the Church," _Don_ Alejandro said dryly.

"Ah, there you are, Mendoza."  Diego turned, his mouth dropping open in shock when he saw the man standing behind him.  It was Ignacio DeSoto, a man with whom he went to University.  "I want you to post these notices."

"A new tax, _Alcalde_?"  Diego looked over at his father in shock.  DeSoto was the horrible, cruel _alcalde_ of Los Angeles?  He could not believe it.  The man had worked for everything he had at the University.  There was no silver spoon in his mouth when he was born.  If anyone should understand the plight of the peasants, it should be him.

"I'm sorry," his father mouthed.  He must know about Diego's expectations for this man.  He had been there when DeSoto first came to Los Angeles.  Diego could well image the hopes that had been crushed when DeSoto turned out to be so badly.  

"Yes, _Don_ Alejandro," DeSoto said, not paying attention to the interplay between father and son.  "It is a new school tax to be applied to every good sold within the _pueblo_."

Diego stood.  "You must be joking."

Everyone looked at him shock for a moment.  Finally, DeSoto drew himself up straight and lifted a cool eyebrow.  "I can assure you I am not, _Don_ Diego."

"There is no need for a school tax, _Alcalde_.  The people of this _pueblo_ have always been generous to the missionary and its school.  The profits that would be taken in from charging even a small percentage on every item bought in this _pueblo_ would be outrageous compared to the monetary need of the school.  What may I ask would the excess be used for?  New cravats for you?"

DeSoto at first looked too shocked to say anything.  He reminded Diego of a fish out of water, with his mouth opening and closing.  He lifted a gloved hand to play with his white mustache.  "Are you suggesting that _I_ am trying to steal from these good people?"

He took a deep breath and smiled a large, fake smile.  "Oh, no, _Alcalde_, I would not dare.  I'm sure you just have the best interests of the people at heart."

"Of course, I do, _Don_ Diego.  And I do not think it is of the best interests of the people for someone to be sprouting useless rhetoric about how the money is going to be spent.  Someone like that should be--taken out of circulation for a while, perhaps a short stay in my jail."

Diego's grin was real now.  "Are you threatening me, _Alcalde_?"

"No, Diego, he was only saying that you can't be too careful about insurrection!"  His father grabbed his arm, and began pushing him towards the door of the tavern.  "Good day, _Alcalde_!"

"Good day, _Don_ Alejandro, _Don_ Diego.  Get to work, Mendoza," he growled before marching off towards his office.  

"_Sí_, _mi_ _alcalde_," Diego heard Mendoza squeak before he rushed away.

Diego turned back to look at his father.  He could not believe that _Don_ Alejandro had just ignored the blatant misuse of the _alcalde_'s powers.  "I cannot believe you did not say anything out there, Father.  That man is clearly--"

_Don_ Alejandro shook his head.  "Diego, you have got to know when and where to pick your fights."

He inhaled sharply.  "Well, I don't know why he was so surprised that I said something.  A de la Vega that doesn't speak out--that will be the day."

"That will be the day," his father echoed softly.

Patting his father's shoulder, Diego tried to smile.  "I think I'll go in the kitchen and talk to Victoria for a while.  Give you sometime to talk to your friends and give me sometime to cool down."

"Cool down.  Good idea, Diego," his father said, his eyes glassy, like that of a man lost in thought.


	3. Diego and Victoria in the Kitchen

The Man From Spain 3

Diego stood quietly for a moment watching Victoria work.  She was the most beautiful woman in the _pueblo_.  If he were to admit the truth, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.  Even all the celebrated beauties of Europe paled next to her in his opinion.

She started when she saw him standing next to the entranceway.  She put her hand next to her chest and shook her head.  "You scared me, Diego."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you any alarm.  It's just that--watching you work is like seeing a piece of art come to life."

She put the bottle of wine in her hand down on the table.  She looked uncomfortable about his words.  He reached over and gently grasped her arm.  "I know your heart belongs to Zorro, Victoria, but allow me a moment of regret."

She smiled weakly at him.  "I never thought you looked at me that way, _Don_ Diego."

He laughed.  "I looked at you that way before I left for University.  I just knew you were too young--I was too young.  You had just taken over this tavern, so I knew you wouldn't leave and--"

He watched her slowly walk over to gather some vegetables.  She dropped them onto the table and walked over for a knife.  Still smiling, he reached for the knife.  "Let me peel and chop these for you."

"I can do it--"  
  


"I know you can, Victoria, but let me help you.  Surely, I've offered to help before now."  He wished she did not look so uncomfortable with him.  He wished he knew what he felt for this woman.  He was in love with her, but the man he was today, or the man he should be, or the man he was . . . Diego sighed.  His life was too confusing, even for him.

She finally relaxed and smiled at him.  "Yes, you've offered to help, but never in the chopping."

"Really?"  He sliced the blade through the vegetable in his hand, turning the whole into pieces.  "I'm surprised.  I have enough experience in kitchens."

Victoria's laughter was spontaneous and loud.  "You?  _You_ have experience in a kitchen?"

He tried to look offended.  "Yes, I'll have you know that I worked three years in the kitchen at school."

"But why?  I mean--" Tossing the knife up in the air, He twirled and caught it.  "Diego!  Have you gone _loco_?  You could have been hurt!"

Shocked and touched by her concern, he laughed.  "Not by doing that.  It's one of the reasons Sir Edmund insisted that I work in the kitchen.  He wanted me to learn control of a knife."

She watched how quickly he diced her onions.  "I think you have me beat on speed."

Looking up at her, he smiled.  "Thank you.  Nice to know that I still have some of my old talent with vegetables--and with knifes."

"You often toss knifes?"  Her voice sounded strained, but at least she did not seem to be worried about his feelings right now.

"All the time," he answered, tossing the onion pieces into a bowl.  After he quickly cleaned the blade, he began on the apples.  "It's not that dangerous--as long as you know what you are doing."

"Not that dangerous?  Diego, it is throwing knives in the air."

"True, but jumping horses through rings of fire was much more foolish on my part," he teased.

Victoria sounded like she was choking.  "You jumped horses through rings of fire?"

"Yes," he answered, stopping his chopping for a minute.  "And if you are going to repeat everything I say, we are going to have a very tedious conversation."

"I'm sorry."

Diego sighed.  "Don't be.  It's me.  I think I would really like to meet your Diego."

"What do you mean?"

"I would love to ask him some questions.  I think the first one would be:  Where did you come from?"

She snorted, gathering the apple chunks into another bowl.  "The same place you did."

Laughing himself, Diego shook his head.  "You all have refused to discuss that man with me, but I'm beginning think he is _nothing_ like I am.  The _alcalde_ looked as if he had swallowed a very large bird when I told him that I thought his school tax was a horrible, and mostly likely unjust, tax.  Yet, I'm a de la Vega, and I'm not sure I've met one member of my family that knows how to hold his tongue."

She smacked the bowl down on the table.  "You told the _alcalde_--"

"Yes, _I_did!  Victoria, you act like my throwing a knife in the air is something you would never think of 'Diego' doing, and yet I've juggled eight knifes at one time!"

"Eight?"

"Yes, eight!  My father tells me I've fallen off his old mare, and yet I was considered one of the most accomplished horsemen in my group of friends," he said, pointing the knife in the air.  "There were some very accomplished horsemen in that group!"

Diego crossed his arms and leaned against the table.  "Then, I would ask him why we--he--me was not married, yet.  I'm not opposed to marriage, Victoria.  Have I even courted anyone since I've been home?"

She shook her head, looking down at her toes.  "Not that I know of, Diego."

"That makes no sense to me.  Mother and Father had a wonderful marriage.  I've always wanted to be married, and yet I'm thirty years old and still a bachelor.  I should have a houseful of children running about the _hacienda_ by now.  Surely, Zefíra didn't turn me against marriage that much."

"Zefíra?  Her?"

It was Diego's turn to be surprised.  "You've met her."

Victoria turned away from him, picking up the bowl and walking across the room to set it down next to the fire.  "Yes, I have.  She was here with her husband."

Diego snorted.  "I don't suppose she mentioned why she left me standing at the altar, did she?"

"Altar?" She gasped, turning so quickly that she almost knocked the bowl over with her skirt.  "You were going to marry her?"

Diego laughed at Victoria's horror.  "It seemed like a good idea at the time.  We had a lot in common, and I thought I was in love with her.  Maybe I was in love with her, but I think I recovered very fast from her loss."

"W-what do you mean?"

He became bashful.  He looked down at the few vegetables he had left to chop.  Taking a deep breath, he picked the knife back up and began chopping.  He shrugged.  "I just think I did," was all he would say on the subject.

ZZZZZZ

Victoria knocked on the door of the de la Vega _hacienda_.  She told herself that she was foolish to be here so late after sunset, but there she stood anyway.  _Don_ Alejandro answered the door.  It was one of the small things that made her love the de la Vega family so much.  Whereas many of the other _caballero_s hired servants to handle every menial task, such as opening doors, the de la Vega men did most of them themselves.  A person could spend an entire afternoon in the de la Vega _hacienda_ and never see one servant.

_Don_ Alejandro looked as haggard as she felt.  "Come in, Victoria.  Diego's already gone to bed.  Today exhausted him more than he wanted to admit."

She nodded, playing with her shawl.  Her old friend escorted her into the library.  It was easy for her to see that _Don_ Alejandro had been deep in thought before she arrived.  The chair was turned towards the nicely burning fire and on the table was a half-drunk glass of wine.  "Can I get you something to drink, Victoria?" he asked her.  Today had exhausted him more than he was willing to admit, too.

She shook her head and dragged the other chair around to the front of the fire.  She sat down in it, feeling at home in this _hacienda_.  It surprised her when she realized how much she considered this place her home away from home.  Oh, she had always felt like a welcome friend, but over the years, since Diego's return from Spain, she had been invited over at least once a week for dinner.  She has spent hours here listening to Diego play the piano, reading a book of poems, or just talking with the de la Vega men.  Since she had little free time from the tavern, it was remarkable that she had spent so much time here.  The de la Vegas were her family now.

However, she did not look at Diego as a brother.  She would never admit it to anyone, but she felt that if there had been no Zorro, she would have married Diego.  Oh, many of the people in the _pueblo_ would laugh at the idea of someone with her fiery nature marrying such a quiet man, but it was his quietness that appealed to her.  He accepted her just as she was.  Not once had he ever indicated that he thought she would be better marrying someone to help her run the tavern.  He had never told her, or even hinted, that he thought she should keep her mouth shut about political matters.  Diego enjoyed her just as she was, and it was a wonderfully intoxicating quality.

If she could somehow magically mix in the wonderful courage of Zorro with the stability of her best friend Diego, she could create the perfect man.  As much as she loved him, she did wish she could depend on Zorro like she did Diego.  True, he never put a blade to a soldier's throat, and he had never been one to protest against the _alcaldes_, but he did help everyone in ways that Zorro had never been able to do.  His willingness to listen to people, to love them for who they were, were parts of Diego that she never wanted to be without in her life.  If she could mix them both, she would have . . . she would have . . . the man that was in her kitchen earlier.

"He's not the same man, Victoria."  _Don_ Alejandro's voice startled her from her thoughts.

Her hand clenched, wrinkling the fabric of her red skirt.  "I know, _Don_ Alejandro."

"Today, I watched a stranger walk around in my son's body.  He spoke up when he disagreed.  His riding was remarkable."  _Don_ Alejandro chuckled.  "Honestly, I think he's even better than I was at that age."

"You should have seen how well he handles a knife," Victoria said sadly.  As much as she loved her friend, she liked this new version of him in many ways.  If only he could get his memory back, be the man he was before he hit his head, as well as the man he was afterwards.

_Don_ Alejandro finished his wine in one gulp.  "All the ladies that came into your tavern today left with a smile on their face.  I never knew he was so skilled at flattery."

Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair.  "It was strange.  He seemed so comfortable with it in some ways and so shy in others."

_Don_ Alejandro frowned.  "Really?  I didn't noticed.  He told me that it was easy to complement a lady, as long as you do not have romantic feelings for her.  He reminded me what _Padre_ Figueroa always use to say about looking for the good in every person.  Then, he told me about a discussion he had with a monk at a mission once, about how a few kind words always makes the world a better place."

Victoria moved about her chair, struggling to get comfortable in a chair that was usually soft and inviting to her.  "Diego's always be a kind person, _Don_ Alejandro.  I've heard him compliment many people.  Mendoza can tell you about how people always feel better after talking with him."

Putting down his glass, _Don_ Alejandro leaned back in his chair.  "I know, Victoria, but today he was more--outgoing.  He was not as shy about it.  He didn't seem like himself to me until we returned home.  He sat in that chair there and listened to me discuss the problems I'm having with the ranch.  He was not restless or bored.  He was--_Diego_."

Victoria smiled as she remembered the light supper she had served her friend earlier.  "Oh, I don't know, _Don_ Alejandro.  He very much seemed like Diego when he bought that poor family some food.  They left feeling like they had done him a favor by eating with him."

"He does have a wonderful ability to make people feel comfortable," he agreed.

She started to relax.  "Yes, he does.  When I was asking about the knife, he told me that Sir Edmund had him work in the kitchens at school."

"What?"

She shrugged.  It seemed very odd to her, too, to have such a wealthy man work in such a menial task, but Diego had not been offended by the work.  He seemed to enjoy it earlier, working in her kitchen.  "He felt Diego would get better control of knives, or at least that's what Diego told me.  Later, though, he mentioned that Sir Edmund also wanted him to learn how to get along better with people."

"Diego has always gotten along with people.  He was always making a new friend when ever I let him go to the _pueblo_," _Don_ Alejandro sputtered.

She smiled, remembering the little rascal that used to race around the plaza.  He always did have a few new friends by the time he left.  "True, _Don_ Alejandro, but Sir Edmund wanted him to work with people who did not automatically trust him because his name was 'de la Vega'.  I think Sir Edmund had a point, and so did Diego.  He said he learned more in that kitchen about how to get along with people than he ever had anywhere else.  Everyone in Los Angeles did trust him because he's your son, and you're name does carry weight through all of California."

_Don_ Alejandro's face showed signs of remembered grief and joy.  "Yes, my old friend was always wise beyond his years.  It's why I wanted Diego to study with him.  When Edmund arrived here in Los Angeles, I knew that he meant a lot to Diego, but I never realized until now just how much my son had learned from him."

Victoria finally asked the question that forced her to go out into the black night.  "Diego told me earlier that the last thing he remembers is getting off the boat in San Pedro.  Then, waking up here in bed with his head hurting.  What changed him so much?  I mean, why did not we ever met this man when he came home?"

_Don_ Alejandro was quiet for a few minutes.  The fire crackled as it slowly began to die.  "I don't know, Victoria.  I don't know, and I've been asking myself that question all day."

ZZZZZZZ

"Good morning, Father!  Beautiful day, isn't it?"

_Don_ Alejandro turned and grinned at his son.  He had only begun working on the accounts, but he wore a smile when he closed his ledgers.  "You're up early."

Diego laughed and sat down in the chair across from him.  It was a beautiful day, which was why _Don_ Alejandro had decided to work out in the garden.  Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, his son said with a grin, "I've always been an early riser, Father.  You know that.  Remember how Mother used to tease you, when I was just a toddler, about it being all your fault that I wouldn't sleep any later than five o'clock?"

"I had forgotten actually."  His hand began opening and shutting the corner of his ledger.

Diego rolled his eyes and took a sip of his juice.  "Let me guess.  The Diego I was before I hit my head never got out of bed before eight o'clock."  Noticing the look on his face, his son shook his head.  "Oh, no!  I refuse to believe it was any later.  Even at the University, when I had stayed out almost all night at a ball, I never slept later than eight o'clock."

"Actually, you usually do get up around eight.  Only, it's not unheard of for you to get up at ten o'clock."

Diego almost spit out his juice.  Gulping the rest of it down, he said, "Ten o'clock!  I would feel like the day had already past me by if I got up that late."

"I would, too," _Don_ Alejandro, agreed, looking surprised to find out his son shared that trait.

Diego finished his drink, looking out across the land.  It was all going to be his one day.  Did the man he had become after school love this land as passionately as he did?  He had to admit he felt greatly disappointed in himself.  He had not lived up to any of his own expectations.  What had caused him to change so much?  While no one seemed to want to talk about how he was now, their responses gave plenty of indications.

"Let's fence, Father," he said.  He felt a little weak, but he was not sure it that was an indication of his head wound or age.  Diego needed to do something, though, or he might go _loco_.

"Fence?  As with swords?"  His father managed to ask without even closing his mouth once.

"Oh, please, don't tell me that I gave up sword play!  Anytime I had a problem, Sir Edmund and I would go out into the courtyard and fence.  I loved it; I always wanted to thank you, when I returned home, for the lessons."  Diego's shoulders slumped.  "I used to think that when I returned home, you and I would continue the practice here in the garden.  I imagined you would be thrilled with the skills I had learned."

"You are a master," _Don_ Alejandro said, carefully enunciating each word.  It almost sounded like a question to Diego's ears.

He nodded in that nonchalant way people have of answering questions that really aren't questions.  "I would be out there every day, with Sir Edmund, learning something new, and I would think of you.  Remember how you used to say that you wanted to be a champion swordsman with both hands?"

"Like you are."  His father's voice was wispy, making him sound like he had been strangled.  Diego looked towards him with a frown, but decided to ignore the little voice of warning in his mind when he noticed _Don_ Alejandro casually drinking from his glass of orange juice.

Nodding, he answered, "Yes.  I have to admit I never expected to enjoy learning the sword so much."

"I'm sure you didn't," his father said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"By the way, do you know where I keep Sir Edmund's sword?"

_Don_ Alejandro grinned at him.  He asked, almost standing up from his chair, "Do you mean his knife?"

Diego hated to disappoint him.  "No, I mean his sword--the championship one that he gave me for beating him in the courtyard."

"Beating him in the courtyard."

Father and son looked at one another for almost a minute, neither one of them revealing their thoughts on their faces or in their eyes.  Finally, Diego said, "You did know that I was one of Sir Edmund's best students."

_Don_ Alejandro's smile was sad.  "Oh, Edmund came for a visit a couple of years after you came back home.  He had some problems with paying the traveler's tax--he thought it was ludicrous--and you stepped in to stop him from fighting the lancers.  He quickly told me that you two could have easily taken all the entire garrison."

Diego laughed.  "I don't doubt that it's true, but it would not be the smartest thing to do."

_Don_ Alejandro looked out over the garden for a moment, lost deep in thought.  "I don't think you would have a problem with this garrison, even by yourself, Diego."

"They don't seem to be well-trained," he agreed.  "However, do you really see me becoming an outlaw?  That's what I'd be if I attacked them."  He laughed at the amusing image floating across his mind's eye.  He could well imagine his father's horror.

"True, you would be," _Don_ Alejandro agreed.  He began to gather his paper and books.  "I need to run into the _pueblo_."  Diego noticed that his father was not even looking at him.  "I have some things that need to be taken care of right now.  If you need me, just send someone with a message to the tavern."

He sat there, stunned by the sudden departure.  _Don_ Alejandro's footsteps stopped.  "Diego, when you mention Edmund's sword, do you mean the one made out of Toledo steel?  The one with the beautiful silver--"

"Yes, that's it!"  Smiling, Diego turned in his chair.  "Do you know where I keep it?"

_Don_ Alejandro slowly shook his head.  "No, Diego, I have no idea where you keep that sword, but don't worry.  I know it's around here somewhere."

He watched as the man he admired most shuffled his way back into the _hacienda_, his shoulders drooped in defeat.  He turned, hitting his fist against the table.  He let his head fall onto his hands, and wondered again about the man he had become.  Diego de la Vega was home, but it was the home of a stranger who happened to wear his skin.


	4. Zorro Rides Again!

The Man From Spain 4

It was almost closing time and he still sat there, tending his drink.  There had been several glasses of wine consumed by him today, but each one had been sipped.  Unlike most of the people who chose to stay all day in her tavern, _Don_ Alejandro was not drunk.  However, Victoria worried about his state of mind.  She had never seen the _caballero_ look so defeated or exhausted.

Looking around the otherwise empty room, she made a quick decision.  She marched over to the front door and closed it with a loud snap.  Then, she bolted it.  She did not often close earlier, so tonight would be an exception.  It had been slow all day anyway.

"_Don_ Alejandro," she began, sitting down across from the man.  "Tell me what is bothering you.  Is it Diego?"

"Yes!  No!"  He shook his head.  "Both, I guess."  He was silent for several minutes, still lost somewhere in his own mind.  Finally, his eyes focused on her.  "Victoria, I am the worst father in this entire _pueblo_."

She immediately opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself.  Her mother taught her at an early age to listen, even when she disagreed, and while she often failed, Victoria did try to live her life by that lesson.  "What makes you say that?" she finally asked, pleased that she was able to make her voice sound so cool and calm.

He took a small sip of his wine before answering.  "Victoria, my son has lived with me all of his life, except for those few years in Madrid.  I left the army right after he was born.  I watched him takes his first step.  I held him while he cried for his mother after we lost her.  I saw him blossom as he learned from his tutors."  He shook his head sadly.  "Now, I know I never even knew him."

She watched her hands play across the table.  She could not keep them still.  "He is Zorro," she blurted.

The man sitting across from her did not even flinch.  "I did not know that until today."

She stifled a nervous giggle.  "You think I did?"

_Don_ Alejandro looked at her in surprise.  "He never told you either?"

Victoria's eyes were glimmering with tears.  "Of course not.  He wouldn't!  How many times have we heard Diego and Zorro talking about how his secret identity protects us all?  He almost told me once, right before he pro--" She stopped talking suddenly, horrified by what she about revealed.  It was to be their secret.  
  


He almost dropped his glass.  "Diego proposed?"

She could not help it.  Even after all this time, she would find herself grinning like a fool when she thought of that wonderful day.  She nodded.  "Yes, he did.  He would not reveal to me the man behind the mask, but I told him I would love him anyway.  He had the same heart."

_Don_ Alejandro was crying with her.  "I was thinking earlier--Once, I had a dream that I rode into this _pueblo_ as Zorro."  He did not notice as Victoria shifted uneasily.  "When I told Diego about it, I asked him if he thought there was a little bit of Zorro in me.  You know what he said?  He told me that everyone needs heroes, and he thought that there was probably a little bit of me in Zorro."  His eyes were crystal sharp when they met hers.  "Victoria, I helped raise a legend."

She shook her head.  "No, _Don_ Alejandro, you raised a man, a very good man.  The legend does not matter; the heart and faith of the man do."

Reaching across the table, he put his hand on hers.  "Victoria, you've grown up into a wonderful lady.  I'm going to be very proud to call you my daughter."

She covered her hand with his.  "Thank you, _Don_ Alejandro.  I will be very honored to call you father."  

He smiled, squeezing her hand.  Finally, he leaned back away from her.  "Why don't you go get us another bottle of wine, my dear?  And bring yourself back a glass!  I feel like giving some toasts."

Victoria, feeling giddy from her new knowledge, nodded.  With years of experience, she promptly had the glass and wine at the table.  Smiling, she poured herself a glass.  She had a feeling it was going to be a long, wonderful night.  

It was a memorable evening for them both.  The conversation centered on the man that both of them loved, and the light blush of the dawn was beginning to show when they finally decided to get some sleep. 

ZZZZZZ

Diego looked up from his notes, amusement written across his face.  "I thought I was the one that was supposed to get up late in this _hacienda_."

Sitting down in his favorite chair, _Don_ Alejandro grinned.  "I spent most of the night talking to Victoria about Zorro."

Diego's eyebrow rose in surprise.  "You were out all night?"

"I am a grown man, Diego," his father teased.  "I needed to talk to Victoria about a few things, and it was easier to do after she closed."

Tossing down his quill, he looked intently at his father.  "You had me worried," he admitted.

"I know, and I'm sorry.  I realized there was something that I needed to handle."  He wished he could share it with his son, but Doctor Hernandez warned them not to reveal too much.  It would help if Diego knew a recovered memory was real instead of his own imagination filling in gaps.

He crossed his hands in front of him.  "I apologize if I upset you yesterday."

_Don_ Alejandro smiled.  "It was not you, Diego.  It was me."

Diego picked up his quill and began twirling it in the air.  He kept his eyes on the feather as he spoke.  "It's frustrating not knowing what or _who_ I am.  I feel like I'm walking through quicksand."

Nodding, _Don_ Alejandro stood.  He walked in front of his son's desk and leaned across it.  Diego dropped his quill in surprise.  "I want you to know, Diego, that I love you, and I am very proud to call you my son.  I always have, but it has not always been easy for me to say it.  I'm sorry for that fact, but--Please, quit worrying about what you are doing wrong.  You are not doing anything _wrong_**.  **You are just doing things . . . differently."

An insistent knock on the door prevented Diego from saying anything.  _Don_ Alejandro smiled sorrowfully as he went to answer it.  Anymore, it seemed like someone was at his door every day, needing help.  He, for one, was growing tired of it.  He loved helping people, but the need he saw throughout the _pueblo_ was becoming unbearable to him.  Something was going to have to give, and it was going to have to be soon.  For the first time ever, _Don_ Alejandro was beginning to fear that there would be the uprising Ramón used to fear at the beginning of his reign.

"Victoria, what is it?"

She rushed through the door.  "Mendoza told me that the _alcalde_ has arrested another man.  He plans to whip him at noon."

"Noon?"  Diego's voice echoed through the hall.  "The man could not have had a trial."

_Don_ Alejandro was amused when he saw Victoria blush.  Her new knowledge of Diego's other life was affecting her response to him.  Hopefully, it would not be noticeable to anyone but him.  She nodded, as _Don_ Alejandro replied, "Trials are something we don't see much of here in Los Angeles anymore."

"Let's go!"

Victoria looked at Diego for a moment, and then she glanced over at _Don_ Alejandro.  "Diego, can I speak to your father alone for a moment?"

His disappointment was obvious, but he left them without protest.  "We have to tell him," she stated the moment he disappeared around the corner.

"We can't!  Doctor Hernandez--"

Victoria leaned closer to him, her eyes scanning the hallway in front of them for any sign that Diego might be close enough to overhear.  "We have to, _Don_ Alejandro.  He cannot go to the protest today.  The _alcalde_ is not the smartest man in the _pueblo_, but he is not the dumbest man, either!  We do not know how much longer this _amnesia_ will last.  DeSoto might begin noticing that Diego's sudden interest in the _pueblo_ started at the same time Zorro disappeared.  He has to be told."

_Don_ Alejandro shook his head.  "He's going to wonder where his sword, and his horse, and his mask are, Victoria.  Then, he's going to wonder why we don't know.  What do I tell him then?  How do I explain to him something that I don't understand myself?"

"He has to know to keep himself out of danger."

"I know."  _Don_ Alejandro draped one arm around her shoulders and squeezed.  "I do wish I knew where Zorro's lair was though," he said, trying to lighten the mood as they began walking in the direction Diego went.

She tried to laugh.  "I do, too.  It's such a nice little cave."

_Don_ Alejandro stopped walking.  "You've been there?"

She nodded, smiling that same fond smile of last night.  "Oh, yes!  It's where he proposed to me.  Toronado's there, and some of his trick--experiments."

Frowning, _Don_ Alejandro scanned his home.  "It cannot be far from here, Victoria.  Diego wouldn't go far; it would take too much time."

"True," she agreed.  "He went to get us something to eat, and he came back very quickly."

_Don_ Alejandro turned to look at the library, a place his son had mysteriously appeared and disappeared from over the years.  "The old escape route," he muttered.

"What?" she said with her eyebrows drawn up in confusion.

He ignored her question and rushed over to the fireplace mantel.  After all these years, his memory was a little foggy on where the mechanism was, but he was relatively sure it was--

A soft click let him know that he had found it.  The door swung open at the back of the fireplace.  He turned to look at Victoria.  He grasped her hand and pulled her after him.  When they got to the end of the passageway, Victoria gasped.  _Don_ Alejandro sank down to sit on the steps.  Even though they had guessed the truth, it was still remarkable to see the proof lying about the cave.

"Well, now you can tell him where the mask, sword and horse are," she whispered in awe.

_Don_ Alejandro started to nod and then stopped.  A part of him said that the idea was _loco_, but another part reminded him of a terrified man in the plaza that needed help.  "Let's go speak to Diego," he said abruptly.  He turned and left the cave, praying that he was making the right decision.

ZZZZZZ

He would admit it.  When they first told him, he had thought that they were having some fun at his expense.  Him, this legendary Zorro?  Impossible!  He was not the kind of man to break the law even once, let alone on an almost daily basis.  He even almost dismissed the evidence of the cave, but as he rode the most magnificent horse he had ever seen towards the _pueblo_, he was glad that he had finally believed.  

For the first time since he had opened his eyes a few days ago, something felt right.  As he tied the mask behind his head, quickly and efficiently, all of the problems and worries he had as Diego seemed to fade away from his mind.  Instead, he concentrated on the man who needed his help.

"Zorro!" he heard the friendly little sergeant yell.  It was familiar.  He knew it in a way that he could not explain.

He felt himself smiling.  It was as if someone else was taking over his actions.  He admitted that he was glad that his muscles seemed to know what to do.  Personally, he felt overcome by intense fear; his mind was busy telling him that he did not have a clue as to how to handle the lancers.

"_Alcalde_," he called.  "When are you going to learn?"  Yes, now he knew it for a fact; he was _loco_.  Why else would he be sitting on his saddle sidewise, taunting the most powerful man in the _pueblo_?

"Get him!"  Again, Diego noticed that it felt right.  Just as right as Sir Edmund's sword felt in his hand.  _This should be fun_, a small part of his mind crowed.  Then, all of Diego's attention went to the fight at hand.

ZZZZZ

"I can't believe I tossed the _alcalde_ into a water trough," he muttered to Toronado.  Now that the fight was over, Diego's entire body was shaking.  Even though he had enjoyed putting DeSoto in his place, he had not enjoyed seeing _Don_ Alejandro step in front of an aiming lancer's gun.  His father could have died protecting him!

How on earth could he do this for seven years?  How had he done it for seven year?  Was there even an end in sight?

However, he was proud of himself.  He had done what he wanted to do, if not in the manner he had thought.  He stood for justice, just as his father stood.  _Don_ Alejandro was proud of him.  Diego frowned.  Something did not feel right about that thought, but he decided to ignore it.

Victoria was in love with him.  The entire _pueblo_ knew it.  She was just waiting for the mask to be taken off to marry him.  His head throbbed.  He put a gloved hand to his temple and began rubbing, struggling to remember his life with Victoria.  Why had he not married her, yet, and given _Don_ Alejandro those much-desired grandchildren?  Especially since the man was risking his life to protect his son!

Knowing he should be on his way home, Diego stopped Toronado.  He had lost the lancers after he jumped over a ravine.  From his, Toronado's, and the lancer's reactions, it too must be a familiar move for him.  For once, he was thankful for the reckless little boy he had been.  

Dizzy, he fell to his knees.  Struggling to breath, he wondered if his father now knew about those days.  He had little doubt that _Don_ Alejandro would yell the _hacienda_ down if he knew about what his son had done with some of their prized horses over the years.  

Breathing deeply in an almost useless effort to catch his breath, Diego wondered how many times his father had risked his life trying to save his?  He should have never told him.  It would have been better to have played the fool rather than see his father risk his life even once for his son.

Feeling the world swirl around him, Diego closed his eyes.  He tried to focus, but everything was too out of control.  Suddenly, to his relief, the vertigo stopped.  Blackness overtook him.


	5. A Secret Kept

The light in the room was much too bright. Moaning, he opened his eyes. "Diego!" a much-too robust voice said.

Trying to smile, Diego answered, "I'm all right, Father."

"I hope so, Diego. You had us worried. When--"

Diego laughed, forcing his eyes open. "You should be used to my clumsiness now."

"Your clumsiness?" _Don_ Alejandro glanced over to someone on the other side of the bed. Diego did not have the energy to look.

"Slipping in wine and hitting my head was not the most graceful of moves, Father," he said, wishing he could sit up, but knowing it would be agony to try.

"Slipping in wine," _Don_ Alejandro repeated slowly.

He frowned at his father's strange behavior. "I'm sorry; it was all my fault."

"Diego, don't you--"

Victoria suddenly walked around into his line of vision. Diego was thrilled that she was there. He knew that she loved Zorro, but it always warmed his heart to see that she cared for Diego. It gave him hope that when the mask came off forever, she could love him. "_Don_ Alejandro, I think Diego needs to rest now."

His father frowned at her. "Victoria, I think--" She put a hand on the _caballero_'s shoulder. Diego watched, confused, as his father and secret fiancée seemed to have a conversation without words. Finally, _Don_ Alejandro reluctantly nodded.

His father's smile was false, but Diego's hurting head could not understand why. "We'll let you get some sleep, Diego. We'll talk later."

Watching _Don _Alejandro, the man he admired most in the world, slowly walk out the door, troubled Diego. "I'm sorry for my terrible temper," he called. He honestly was horrified at himself for acting that way. It was not _Don_ Alejandro's fault that he had never "met" his "real" son; Diego had been hiding him away for years.

_Don_ Alejandro and Victoria exchanged their odd looks and then his father turned to look at him, smiling. "I understand, Diego. We all have frustrating days. Get some rest."

He relaxed into his pillows. He felt tired but peaceful. He frowned for a moment, and then decided to just enjoy it. This sense of peace had been missing from his life for too long, so he was content to just experience, even if he could not explain it.

As he let sleep claim him, he had a sudden image of his father standing in Zorro's cave. _What a ridiculous flight of fancy! _He thought with a grin. Why would his father ever have to explain to _him_ his own decision to be Zorro?

Again, Diego wished with all his heart that he could tell his father the truth, but it was not even a possibility. There was too much injustice in Los Angeles for him to be able to take off the mask forever, and he could not let his father spend hours worrying about his only child. He shivered at the idea of _Don_ Alejandro trying to protect him from the lancers. Until DeSoto was replaced with a kind, caring _alcalde_, _Don_ Alejandro would have to remain in the dark about his son's life.

When sleep did overtake him, Diego dreamed of a different world. He faced down the _alcalde_ as himself. While finding it extremely difficult, Diego flirted with Victoria instead of a masked man. Finally, he dreamed of his father, wearing expressions of pride, sadness, and happiness equally, forcefully telling him that he was proud of him. He had always been proud of him. It was a wonderful dream.

ZZZZZZZ

Outside his room, _Don_ Alejandro and Victoria were talking to a newly arrived Doctor Hernandez. "Victoria and I found him out by his horse, so we brought him in and put him to bed."

"Did Diego fall off of Esperenza?"

_Don_ Alejandro shook his head. "I do not think he fell from the saddle, Doctor. It doesn't look like he hit his head or anything else. There is no bruise or cut."

Doctor Hernandez's kind face creased in concern. "He's asleep at the moment?"

"Yes, Doctor," Victoria said, obviously worried. "Why did he suddenly get his memory back? It was as if the last few days never happened for him."

Smiling, Hernandez picked up his medicine bag. "The best person to ask would be Diego. He's the one that is fascinated by odd little studies about such strange occurrences. He knows far more about amnesia, but I must warn you, my dear, that there is not that much to know. The human mind is a strange instrument that we have made little headway in understanding."

She hugged her arms tightly around herself. "So, we may never know why Diego regained his memory."

Nodding, he tried to reassure her. "There is a possibility that Diego will one day remember the last few days. We just cannot say with any certainty. Trauma to the mind is far different from trauma to the body. While we are starting to understand the whys of the body, the mind is almost an unvisited foreign land to us."

Looking at _Don_ Alejandro, he said, "Take Felipe, for example. Remember how he could not recall anything about his life when Diego brought him home? Slowly, over the years, as he became more comfortable and more confident, he began to remember small parts of his life. There was absolutely no physical trauma involved in his loss of memory. He simply could not handle what he had seen on that battlefield, and so his mind forgot it until he could."

_Don_ Alejandro leaned heavily against a wall. "Yes, I saw some similar things happen after a horrible battle. Nothing as long as Felipe, or even Diego really, but some men walked around dazed and confused for hours afterwards."

"I don't think that Diego has experienced such traumas in his life," the doctor replied. He did not notice the look exchanged between _Don_ Alejandro and Victoria. "But like I said, earlier, the human mind is a mystery. Sleep is the best medicine for him today. If you need me--"

Standing straight, the _caballero_ said, "We'll send someone for you. Thank you for coming, Doctor."

Hernandez's smile held a hint of melancholy. "As much as I love my profession, _Don_ Alejandro, I do wish that my comings were not usually signs of bad news."

"You are a good man," Victoria told him. "You bring people peace, Doctor."

Nodding his thanks, Hernandez quietly told the two of them good-bye and walked himself to the door. Victoria and _Don_ Alejandro barely noticed his absence, since their thoughts were so focused on Diego.

"We have to tell him about the last few days, about what we discovered," _Don_ Alejandro finally said.

Victoria remembered a day long past. The man she loved, dressed as a man she only considered a friend, had stood next to a horrible colonel by the name of Palomarez. He had taken over the entire _pueblo_ and planned to hang a person every day until Zorro stepped forward. Even Ramón, a tyrant in his own right, had been horrified by the plan. Now, she knew that her past self should have noticed how impassioned Diego's speech about Zorro had been, but she had been oblivious then.

"No, _Don_ Alejandro," she said with a voice full of regret and pain. "We can't."

"What? Victoria, I have no desire to play--"

Tears glistened in her eyes. "I don't either," she snapped. "I want to come into this _hacienda_ and treat Diego like the man he _is_, instead of the man he has pretended to be. I want to kiss him and hold him without that horrible mask in the way! I want--I want a lot of things, _Don_ Alejandro, but I cannot have them. I cannot do that to him."

_Don_ Alejandro visibly stopped himself from speaking. He drew in a deep breath. "Why not, Victoria? Why would it hurt him to let him know that we _know_? He's not alone anymore."

Remembering a day in a cave, she smiled. "I don't think he's ever been alone. I think Felipe knows." She had always thought that someone else had briefly walked into the open room, but Zorro had made sure to use his body to block her view.

"Why?"

Victoria shook her head. "I just do. It's a feeling I have."

_Don_ Alejandro, crossing his arms, looked over at Diego's closed bedroom door. "Why can't we tell him, Victoria?"

Rubbing her hand over her brow, Victoria struggled to explain. "When Palomarez was here the first time, Diego told him that we were protected, that Zorro had always protected us by keeping his identity a secret. It's important to him that we _don't_ know. If he wanted to tell us, if we really wanted us to know, we would know."

Hearing the conviction in Victoria's voice, _Don_ Alejandro thought of all the cruel words he had said to his son over the years. He remembered many looks of frustration crossing Diego's face. He did not want to admit it, but he understood what she was saying. It was important to Diego for them _not_ to be part of his secret world. He worried too much about them being hurt.

"Would you have stepped out in front of that lancer today if you hadn't known?" she asked him, proving her point with a question.

Closing his eyes, _Don_ Alejandro could remember the absolute terror he felt when he noticed Corporal Sanchez aiming his musket straight at Diego's heart. He had never felt so helpless in all his life. Before this week, Zorro had always seemed so larger than life. Knowing the truth, he could no longer ignore the danger his son placed himself in on an almost daily basis. "No," he whispered finally. "No, I wouldn't have."

ZZZZZZZZZZ

Diego inhaled deeply, enjoying the smells of the garden. It was a wonderful day. After several days of bed rest--and working on several poems--Diego felt remarkably rested. The _alcalde_ had been silent for the past few days, so Zorro had been allowed to relax.

He wondered about the few days that were missing from his memory. His father had explained that he had fallen and hit his head _again_. Somehow, the second hit had made him lose those days. _Don_ Alejandro had gone into a long, rambling explanation about the human mind and the odd ability to forget. Laughing, Diego had gently explained to his father that he was well aware of the research into amnesia. He found the subject fascinating for several reasons, but the main one was because of Felipe's memory loss after the battle that had killed his parents. His father has simply nodded, obviously distracted by some other thought.

Apparently, he had acted like himself. No one, not even Victoria, seemed to think anything different of him. He had heard about Zorro's last confrontation with DeSoto, and admitted to himself that it was uncomfortable to actually hear about it from someone else for the first time. Usually, his questions and surprise were acts. His laughter, when he heard about Zorro tossing the _alcalde_ into a water trough, was genuine for once.

"Diego!" he heard his father call from inside the _hacienda_. He grinned at the familiar bellow.

"I'm out here, Father," he yelled.

Diego struggled to hide his grin while he watched _Don_ Alejandro storm out into the garden. What had annoyed him before his head hit the piano bench now only amused him. Every night, he had struggled with his nightmares. One horrible image repeated itself over and over in his mind-- his father getting shot by a lancer to protect him. He had forgotten the reason for the mask, but his imagination was taking the time to remind him. The masks were there to protect those he loved, and any amount of aggravation was worth it.

"The _alcalde_ is at it again!"

Flinching inside, Diego calmly asked, "More whippings?"

"Oh, no," _Don_ Alejandro snapped, never stopping from his pacing. "Now, he has arrested my old friend _Don_ Emilio for sedition!"

Diego snorted in surprise. "_Don_ Emilio?"

"Yes! Can you believe it?" Before Diego could even begin to answer the question, _Don_ Alejandro began talking again. "I am going to the _pueblo_ to protest! Will you be joining me?"

Stilling himself for yet another discourse on his failure as a son, he calmly replied. "I doubt it would do much good. I'm sure Zorro will ride in and save the day again. I have some writing I want to get done."

"Writing?" His father sighed. Then, he snapped, "Diego, you have been writing for almost a week! Can you not take the time to go protest _Don_ Emilio's arrest?"

He shrugged. "When the muse has struck . . .."

_Don_ Alejandro opened his mouth, but for once, he was lost for words. Growling, he turned and marched back towards the _hacienda_. Suddenly, he stopped, and Diego started in surprise at the sudden change in pattern.

His father looked at him, frustration fairly dripping from his face. "Diego, there are times I wonder--You do know that I love you, don't you?"

"Of course!" he answered, surprised by the question.

"As long as you know," _Don_ Alejandro snapped and walked out of the garden.

Diego sat there for a moment, again wishing that he could throw both masks away forever, but he could not take the chance. He could not allow himself the luxury of a father who knew. The risks were too high.

Sighing, Diego stood. A man needed help, and that help must come from Zorro. He rushed into the _hacienda_ and then into the secret passageway. He had another mask to wear. At least, he did for now.

Z Z Z Z

**I shall be telling this with a sigh**  
**Somewhere ages and ages hence:**  
**Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--**  
**I took the one less traveled by,**  
**And that has made all the difference.**

**Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken"**

**Z Z Z Z**


End file.
